


You Loved Me Even When I was Broken

by leighwrites



Series: Bottom Richie Extravaganza [3]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M, have some bichie, it's officially 2019 here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 18:18:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17249084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leighwrites/pseuds/leighwrites
Summary: When Bill went for a series of routine hospital tests he wasn't expecting to meet someone like Richie.





	1. Chapter 1

The first time that Bill met Richie had been in a hospital of all places. He’d been set to go in for a small series of tests to determine just _what the hell was wrong with him_ with a recommended hospital stay of four to five days while they performed the tests and waited for the results. The nurse who had taken him to his room had been nice enough as she explained the non-invasive tests they would be performing over the next couple of days, pausing outside of a room to check if it was the right one with the file in her hand before leading him inside.

Bill soon saw that it was a semi-private ward with one empty bed on the right hand side near the bathroom. There was a Television hanging from the ceiling playing a movie at the end of the room, and one other occupant. The person who would be Bill’s roommate for a while was sitting in the bed on the left hand side of the room, head angled towards the television with a mass of dark curls hiding his face from view.

From what Bill _could_ see of him though, it was easy to deduce that the boy had recently been in a rather bad accident. His right leg, which was stretched out almost _too straight_ along the length of his bed had a sort of metal cage around it that looked painfully drilled into the sides of his knee, ankle, and thigh, and his left hand and wrist were covered in pure white plaster which only had one signature near the back of his hand which had been done in pink pen: Claire.

The boy didn’t appear to be much older than he was, maybe twenty three at best, and was completely wrapped up in the Jurassic World movie that was playing. Bill doubted that he was actually retaining anything from the movie and had just zoned out due to the pure boredom of being hauled up in a hospital for what Bill was assuming has probably been a good few days already.

The nurse motioned for Bill to get settled in, placing his chart into the metal holder at the bottom of his bed and crossing the room to grab the one belonging to the other patient. “Good morning, Richie, and how are we feeling today? Any better? Worse?”

Bill watched from the corner of his eye as Richie was dragged from his trance, turning to face the nurse and showing the rest of his injuries. An array of cuts littered pale flesh, and there was a thick bruising that spread around soft blue eyes and then down the left hand side of his face and jaw. The bruising around his right eye dipped under a curved metal plate taped to his nose, and there was a pair of thick glasses balanced carefully over the protective plate.

“You mean other than in intense physical pain because drunk drivers suck? I feel better than I have been.” Richie didn’t seem upset by the nurse’s question, the grin stretching further across his face. “Who do I have to sleep with to get some more morphine though? My leg won’t stop throbbing.”

“If you stopped pulling out the I.V the moment we leave the room you wouldn’t have this problem.” The nurse pointed out, placing Bill’s chart into the holder at the bottom of the empty bed. “Honestly I’ve never seen anyone so resistant to one before.”

“You ever had an I.V Claire? It _itches_.”

Claire let out a soft laugh, looking at his chart. “I’ll come by and bring you some in a little while. Any migraines today?”

“Nope.”

“Any unusual pains?”

“Yeah, there's metal rods drilled into my leg.”

“ _Richie._ ”

“No unusual pains.”

“It says here you didn’t eat your breakfast earlier.”

“It’s very hard to chew when your whole mouth hurts.”

Claire looked sympathetic, noting something on his chart before putting it back. “I’ll get you some liquid food. I’ll be back in one hour. Remember -”

“I know. No moving unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“That’s my boy.” Claire grinned, ruffling his hair and turning her attention to Bill. “The doctor will be here in thirty minutes for your first set of tests. Until then just… relax the best you can. It’ll be fine.”

The moment the door closed behind Claire the room plunged into silence aside from the TV. Richie’s attention returned to the movie, but Bill still doubted he was _really_ paying attention to it and just trying to stop his brain from fading into idle mode. The silence that had stretched over them was almost suffocating as Bill dropped some things into the set of drawers next to the bed.

“You can ask, you know.” Richie spoke up, dragging his attention from the television again. “I can tell you’re curious.”

Bill turned to face Richie who was now drumming the tips of his fingers against his cheek just under a patch of bruising. “I didn’t want to be rude. There’s no _real_ nice way of asking what happened.”

Richie barked out a laugh. “Honestly you’re right. The first thing my mom said was _Richard Wentworth Tozier, what the hell happened to you? I knew that dirt bike would be the death of you. Look at you!_ My dad spent the whole time holding her back from smothering me so she didn’t make anything worse.” He paused for a moment, free hand picking at the end of his cast. “It wasn’t the dirt bike. At least… not completely. I was leaving the track when this drunk guy just sped out of a parking space and just… slammed into me. My favourite part was the bit where he didn’t stop even when I bounced up his damn windshield, hence this.” He pat the metal cage on his leg. “Thirty-three pins and a whole rebuilt knee. I’m gonna be out of commision for _months_.”

“ _Yikes_ , it sounds like something out of a movie.”

“My dad said that too but I guess you suffer a lot of injuries when a fucking off road vehicle slams into you. Kinda lucky it was just the one leg that suffered after I rolled across the roof then onto the road and not both. So what are you in for?”

“Routine tests. Trying to figure out where all these chest pains keep coming from. Apparently when you _almost_ have a heart attack at twenty-one it’s considered hospital worthy.”

In the first two days of his hospital stay, Bill had become painfully aware that Richie didn’t get visitors outside of his parents. Bill had expected to see some kind of dating partner or a friend stop by, but there had been no one. Richie didn’t seem to mind. He laughed and joked with his parents, hugging them before they left before returning to watching the television until the doctor came by to take him to a physio session to get used to walking with his leg brace on.

“So they still can’t figure it out?” Eddie asked, fidgeting almost uncomfortably in the chair next to Bill’s bed. Eddie had always hated hospitals, and the only time he would willingly step foot in one was when it came to one of his friends.

And Bill really appreciated that Eddie was facing one of the things he hated most just to check on him. “Nope, at least not yet. I’m still waiting for them to get the results from the last set they did.”

“If they keep you longer than five days I’m gonna just kidnap you.” Beverly grinned, reaching over to place a comforting hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “I’ll have to bring Stan though because if Eddie has to come in here again so soon he might actually implode.”

Eddie stuck his tongue out at her, his eyes landing on the messy bed just behind her and the drawer covered in random personal items. “So where’s your roommate? Didn’t you say he was basically incapacitated?”

“Physio.” Bill shifted, crossing his legs to sit more comfortably. “They take him away at one thirty every day so he can learn to walk with his leg brace. He should be back soon.”

“Do you think he didn’t tell anyone he was here?” Beverly stood, crossing the room to Richie’s bed and looking at the card on the set of drawers. “I mean… one card and it’s from his parents? He has to be keeping this from people if he’s as bad as you said, right?”

“Beverly, don’t snoop!” Eddie scolded, keeping his voice to a low hiss. “That’s an invasion of the guys privacy.”

Beverly waved him off, grabbing the chart from the bottom of Richie’s bed. “His emergency contact is one of his parents. Oh my god… he’s actually alone. I can’t name a single person I know our age who has their parents listed for this. I mean… mines you guys. Eddie’s is Stan... ”

“ _Beverly!_ ” Bill hissed as the sound of rattling came from the hallway along with voices, one of which he recognised as Richie’s. “Put it back, he’s coming.”

Beverly quickly returned the chart to its place and rushed back to Bill’s bed, climbing to sit at the foot of it. She tried not to look as Claire led Richie into the room who was supporting himself on a cruch. The brace around his leg made a quiet rattling noise as he crossed the room, and the moment he was sitting on the bed Claire took the crutch and propped it up against the drawers, grabbing his chart.

“You did really well today Richie. You managed to walk all the way there and back without my help.” Claire praised, taking the pen from the pocket of her lab coat and writing something down onto the chart. “And you managed the walking during the session better than usual. You’ll be out of here in no time at this rate and back to yourself in no time.”

“Great. As much as I love you Claire I’ve been here for two weeks already. I’m starting to miss my apartment.”

“You’ll be discharged before you know it and back at home.” Claire assured him.

Bill wondered if she’d missed the sarcastic tone about his apartment of if she’d just chosen to ignore it. Maybe Beverly had been right. Maybe he _was_ alone. Claire signed something off on his chart and returned it to the folder before leaving, her heels clicking softly down the hall. Beverly and Eddie stayed for another hour until the daytime visiting hours were over. Once again Richie had no visitors, spending the entire time entranced with whatever show was playing on the TV.

He’d been so entranced, in fact, that he hadn’t noticed Beverly approaching him until she spoke; startling him out of his daze. She had picked up the marker from the set of drawers and motioned to his cast. “Can I?”

Richie, who seemed both confused and surprised, held out the cast covered hand for Beverly to sign. Beverly signed her name quickly, capped the marker and returned it to the drawers before saying goodbye to Bill and leaving with Eddie.

By his third day Bill had become surprisingly used to Richie. Richie liked to talk, a lot, and Bill had figured that he didn’t get many roommates and that the television was no longer doing it’s job in stopping his brain from going idle. Bill had seen similar behaviour in Stan. When the brain went idle due to boredom, it could have some pretty bad affliction on the person. Their brain kicked into some weird kind of overdrive, overthinking small things and causing the person to close off.

So Bill entertained the conversational moments, replying to questions and even asking some of his own. Richie didn’t attend college like he did. He worked in a bar downtown until early hours of the morning. He lived alone in a studio apartment and he didn’t get visitors because he didn’t allow himself to get used to people. Bill was almost positive Richie didn’t realise just how much of his personal life Richie was delving into. His brain seemed to move a million miles a second, skipping topics to the point where he was rambling.

He was _completely_ positive that Richie wasn’t aware he’d let it slip that he _didn’t_ have friends because any that he made eventually grew tired of his ‘motormouth’ to the point they constantly told him to shut up, stopped answering calls, and never responded to texts. It made Bill horribly aware of the fact that once he was discharged in two days Richie would remain here, alone, with no guarantee that he would get a new roommate, and if he did, that it would be one who would actually talk.

Day four held no tests for Bill. He was just waiting on the results for the ones he _had_ taken, so he’d accompanied Richie to one of the physio sessions, mostly out of curiosity to what they did. He could see Richie’s frustration of having to walk across the barred strip in the middle of the room without the crutch and as little touching of the bars as possible. Richie hated it, but he always made it halfway before he had to stop and grab the bar. He was nothing if not determined.  Because acing his physio meant that he could leave hospital, but there was no way that they would allow him to leave until he could cross the strip without grabbing the bar. His leg had taken the brunt of the accident, and Bill could only _imagine_ what the long recovery process was going to be like.

Today was also the day they’d remove the protective covering from Richie’s nose, which was heavily bruised with a deep cut across the bridge that had been stitched up, but it allowed Richie to actually wear his glasses properly again which he took as a big _plus_ to his whole situation since he had to adjust them less to sit them comfortably on his face so he could actually see people when they were talking to him.

Day five came all too soon, and Bill already found himself packing his things into his bag now that the hospital had discharged him with a heart monitor that he had to use at home. The nurse had shown him how to work it, handing him a notebook to record his heart rate four times a day, morning, midday, evening, and before bed. Beverly had come by to pick him up, skipping into the room with her hand linked into Ben’s who she was dragging along behind her. She handed Richie a card with the promise of visiting him in a few days before enforcing a hug on him and leaving. Richie was positive this was the last time he’d see her _or_ Bill. Neither of them had a reason to be in the hospital anymore. He returned to using the television to occupy his brain, dreading the hour of physio he would have each day because it was just so damn painful and frustrating.

He had not expected Bill to come back four days later during the first hour of the visiting period. Bill had stayed for a full hour, asking how his physio was going and how he was feeling. Richie had answered honestly. Physio was going well but it was as painful as ever and he felt constantly overwhelmed with pain. The bruising on Richie’s face was less now except for just around the edges of his eyes and across his nose.

The process repeated over the next couple of weeks. Bill came by during visiting hours that didn’t clash with his classes, staying for a full hour and engaging Richie in the much needed conversation that would keep his brain occupied, and no matter how much he tried to hide it Bill could tell that Richie appreciated the visits and felt better because of them. Richie’s eyes seemed to light up in a way that Bill could only describe as _cute_ whenever he saw Bill enter the room, or if he came back from a physio session to Bill already sitting in the chair next to his bed. The two of them had quickly become friends, and for once Richie felt like he _wasn’t_ talking to a person who was going to grow tired of him.

“Here.” Bill said, dropping a plastic bag of various candy and a couple of cans of soda onto the bed next to Richie.

“Oh my god you’re a lifesaver.” Richie cheered, moving the bag to the set of drawers. “I’m highly offended that they put the vending machines on the ground floor. How is my incapped ass supposed to get there?”

Bill let out a low chuckle. “You don’t. You send me on a quest for sugary treasures in your honour. I didn’t know what you wanted so I just… got one of everything. Figured that it would get you through today, tomorrow and the day after since I can’t come til the evening visiting hours.”

“I’m surprised you even come to visit. You’re probably my most consistent visitor. Your friend Beverly comes by. She uh… got me that.” Richie nodded to a stuffed bear on the drawers from the hospital gift shop. “She said this room needed a little decoration. You’re the only one who comes by this much though. It’s… thank you.”

Bill smiled, grabbing the marker from the drawers. “Gonna finally let me sign that now?”

“Yeah, sure thing.” Richie held out his hand and Bill carefully wrote his name onto the cast.

“You’re welcome, by the way. I - I hate the idea of you being here alone. You really grew on me.” Bill capped the marker and returned it to its place. “Do you uh… need anything? Like… from home?”

Richie considered it for a moment. He reached for the drawers and opened one, taking out a set of keys and handing them to Bill before grabbing a pen and scribbling an address onto the back of Bill’s hand. “Just… some clothes… cleaning stuff… maybe the charger for my phone since it’s dead. You’ll find that next to my bed… thanks for uh… doing this. The code for the complex is 6390. There should be a backpack in my closet.”

The apartment that Richie served as Richie’s home was small. There was a kitchen and living room combination, one bedroom, and a bathroom, all of which was neat aside from the pile of mail that had built up onto his mat. Bill swept it up into his hand and headed for the bedroom, hunting out a backpack and shoving the mail into the front pocket before grabbing some clothes and the charger for Richie’s phone and heading for the bathroom to grab anything Richie might need from there.

It wasn’t until he was leaving that the door across the hall opened and someone came out of the apartment. The woman looked somewhat annoyed, holding a box in her hands which she shoved into Bill’s chest. “Here, I’m assuming you’re Richie’s boyfriend so do me a favour and take this in and tell him to stop missing parcels because I’m sick of taking them in.” She didn’t give Bill a chance to respond, turning sharply on her heel and storming back into her apartment, slamming the door behind her. Bill heaved a sigh and headed back inside, placing the parcel onto Richie’s kitchen countertop before leaving again, double checking the door was locked before heading back to his car.

He returned to the hospital with the backpack two days later, entertaining Richie with the story of his neighbour who he soon learned went by the name of Marcia. Richie sarcastically described her as a _charming young woman_ as he fiddled with his phone to charge it. There was one text from a person Richie divulged was his boss, but other than that there was nothing. Richie didn’t seem too concerned, and Bill was sure to program his number into the phone just in case Richie needed anything else while he was still bed bound in the hospital.

It was the following week when he entered the semi-private ward, which was still occupied by only Richie, to find the young man in the bed excited about something. “Good news Billiam! They said I can go home in three days because they trust me enough to walk around my apartment without falling over!”

“That’s great! I bet you can’t wait.”

Richie nodded, the excitement still clear on his face. “I miss my comfortable bed. I’m gonna have to find some interesting alternative ways to shower though between the leg brace and the cast… though they said I can just put a plastic bag over my hand. It’s the leg that’s going to be annoying since as you noticed I only own a shower and I’m not supposed to stand up too much. I fear the hospital has treated me to a fine luxury the last month.”

Bill grimaced. He couldn’t imagine being stuck in the hospital for a month. Five days had been enough for him. “You could always sit down and hope for the best.”

“Fantastic idea! I’ll be sure to send you random texts about how I am stuck in the shower and can’t stand back up because someone told me to sit down in it.”

Bill laughed. “Add an ‘SOS’ on there and I’ll come save you from your demon cubicle.”

“Ah, you’re so good to me Billiam, I’m gonna miss you.”

“You’re pretty much incapacitated and you really think I’m gonna just leave you to fend for yourself? I meant it when I said you can text me for anything. I can take you home in three days, bring things to your apartment you need, and I can bring you here to physio.”

“That just makes me feel like I’m using you.”

“You’re not. You can barely walk, and I really would rather you _don’t_ break your neck trying to go to the store for something as stupid as cereal because walking is difficult for you. You need some help and I’m offering to help.”

“Okay, first of all, I will have you know cereal is very important, and secondly fine you win..” Richie paused for a moment, exhaling in defeat. “Thanks Bill - I mean it - I don’t know what I would actually do without you.”

“You’d break your neck trying to go to the store for something as stupid as cereal, we just went over this.”

On the day of Richie’s hospital discharge, Bill had walked into the room as Richie was in the middle of changing his clothes. Bill had been sure to pick out some clothes that would be easy for Richie to wear in his current state. The sweatpants that Bill had packed for Richie the week before now had holes in three places for the clunky bars of his leg brace which Bill was now aware could be removed whenever Richie needed to change his clothes.

“You can remove the bars on the brace?”

Richie snorted, fumbling awkwardly with his button up shirt. “Yeah, _now_ . They only told me this yesterday. It makes it easier for me to shower and change my clothes but I’m thinking I should _maybe_ stick to clothes I don’t mind getting demolished for the rod sticking through my leg.”

“Yikes, yeah, don’t go ruining your normal jeans. Just demolish a bunch of sweats and wear shorts.”

“Honestly at this point I’m thinking about just roaming my apartment in boxers so I don’t have to ruin any clothes. I mean… whose gonna see, right?”

“I do not need to deliver things to your apartment to find you walking around in just your boxers.” Bill said, approaching Richie and moving his hands away from the shirt in order to button it up for him over the thick bandages that covered his chest and stomach, dipping down into his sweats. “Which I feel might be more than likely as you can’t even button up a shirt with that cast on.”

“That’s it, I’m closing my blinds for four months and just walking around the apartment naked. It seems like so much less hassle.”

“I do not need to come to your apartment and see that.”

“Just text me like thirty minutes before you arrive and I’ll pull on some shorts just for you Billiam!” Richie said, shooting him a wink as he stood, grabbing the stuffed backpack from his bed and slinging it over his shoulder while Bill grabbed the crutch for him.

Getting Richie into his apartment had been surprisingly easy considering the elevator was out of order and they had to walk up seven flights of stairs. Richie took them slowly and carefully keeping one hand on the railing of the staircase while Bill climbed behind him, Richie’s backpack slung over his shoulder and the crutch in hand, ready to catch Richie if he stumbled. Bill helped Richie into the apartment and to his sofa, dropping the backpack onto the floor and leaning the crutch against it on the floor. “Do you need anything or -”

“Well, Billiam, I could sure do with some fun company. We got movies and we got games.”

“I - that wasn’t - yeah okay, I’ll stay for a movie.”

They’d ended up watching three Iron Man movies before Bill finally left. Richie didn’t want to admit it, but he hated that Bill had to leave. Bill leaving meant that he was alone again, and the only comfort was that he wasn’t in the hospital anymore. He was at home in a comfortable environment.

“Hook by the door. Take the spare key. You know - just in case.” Richie called as Bill pulled his shoes on.

“Just in case? More like, for tomorrow when I storm in here with actual food for you before you end up living on take out and pizza or something.” Bill joked, snagging the key from the set of hooks by the door.

True to his word, Bill showed up every day to take Richie to his physio sessions. It never bothered Bill having to sit there for a full one hour session. He watched the determined Richie as he tried to walk fully without needing the bar, and he was there to take Richie for his new leg brace which was more flexible and designed to allow his knee to bend, which came with more physio to get used to the weight. Bill ended up hanging out with Richie every night and either cook for him or bring some kind of take out over. They would eat and watch movies until around nine and then Bill would go home. Sometimes when he dropped by he would have his college work with him, and Richie would try to help the best he could.

On one particular warm day, Bill walked into Richie’s apartment to find him in the process of one of his physio exercises; lying awkwardly on the sofa with one arm curled under the back of his knee. It wasn’t the first time he’d walked into a weird position, and Bill was sure it wouldn’t be the last until Richie had the leg brace removed. Placing a plastic bag and Richie’s card onto the table, Bill approached the sofa and wrapped a hand around Richie’s ankle before pushing his leg further towards his chest and drawing a hiss from him; placing a hand firmly to Richie’s thigh to keep it in place. “You’re supposed to do it like that. The sheet literally has pictures.”

“Well… I can’t exactly do that part myself.”

“You could have asked me.”

“It was kind of an awkward thing to ask another guy to do, Billiam.” Richie winked at him, stretching his leg out once Bill released it.

Bill hummed, returning to the door to grab a pair of Richie’s shoes which he dropped in front of the sofa. “Put these on. We’re going out.”

“I’m sorry we’re doing what now?”

“I figured you might want to go somewhere _other_ than your physio sessions. Being cooped up in your apartment every day must be driving you insane.”

“I don’t know...” Richie sounded wary as he sat up slowly, the brace on his leg making a slight rattle. He raised a hand and waved at the brace. “I don’t like people staring at this whenever I go to physio. It would be worse anywhere else.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re not going into the public eye other than to my car. Come on Richie, I know what I’m doing and the air will do you some good.”

Richie groaned, awkwardly bending forward to put on his shoes. Bill was right. Not _really_ being able to leave his apartment _was_ starting to drive him insane, and the most he’d managed was going outside into the hall or onto his balcony. Bill helped him to stand, foregoing the crutch as they left since he could help Richie to walk if he needed it.

The place that Bill had ended up taking him to really _was_ out of the public eye. It was a gorgeous rocky peak that overlooked a huge lake, and off to the side it dipped into a trail that led into the nearby surrounding forestry. There was a single bench near the edge of the peak that Bill helped Richie to, hooking his backpack onto the corner to help him sit.

“How’d you know about this place?” Richie asked, stretching out his leg and wincing when the brace gave a metallic squeak.

“Teenage drinking years. Beverly found this place when she was looking for a place where we wouldn’t get caught. It uh… became one of my favourite places. I come here for art and writing inspiration a lot. Figured it’d be a good place to take you so you can get out of the apartment and not be gawked at because of your leg.”

Richie tilted his head back, staring up at the overhead sky. “I hate it. The brace I mean. I saw it all around the hospital and whenever we go back for my physio. People look at me with nothing but pity in their eyes like I’m broken… which I guess I technically am.”

Bill reached over, tapping the metallic bars of the brace covering Richie’s right leg. “But you’re fixable. This is gonna heal, and you’re gonna be fine. You’ll be good as new and back to normal.”

“And then I won’t see you much anymore… because back to normal means -”

“Don’t.” Bill removed his hand from the brace, a frown tugging at his mouth. “We’re… friends now right? I’ll still come visit you. That’s what friends do. I… like hanging out with you.”

“But you just said -”

“I mean back to normal as in being able to walk, run, fend for yourself… not back to normal as in without me.”

The smile on Richie’s face was brief, and if he hadn’t been looking at him, Bill was sure he would have missed it. They stayed on the peak for most of the day, talking about anything that came to mind, and Richie was surprised at how prepared Bill had been; bringing food with him for them to eat while they were there. Richie wondered if this had _really_ been a spur of the moment thing or if Bill had planned it in advanced.

“Hey Bill, can I ask you something?” Richie twisted almost awkwardly in this passenger seat on their way back to Richie’s apartment, and Bill didn’t miss the almost teasing grin on his face. “Was this… _a date_?”

A red tint rose to Bill’s face, and his hands gripped at his steering wheel a little too tightly as he turned a corner. “I don’t - I mean - maybe - like - I just -”

Richie let out a soft laugh, turning to look out of the window at the passing buildings. “It’s okay if it was. I uh… really liked today. It was nice. Think I’m just a _little_ under dressed though. Maybe you should give a guy a warning next time.”

Bill was quiet for a moment, and Richie wondered if _yet again_ he’d managed to overstep some kind of boundary with _another_ friend. “You’d let me?”

That was _not_ the answer he’d been expecting. Richie diverted his attention back to Bill for a moment, gauging whether or not he was joking before letting out a soft exhale. “Yeah. I would.”

“Okay...” Bill loosened his grip on the wheel, tapping a finger against it lightly. “How about when you get your brace off? So I can take you out properly? In public.”

“That’s gonna be another four months Billiam.”

“So apartment dates until then?”

“Yeah. Okay. Apartment dates.”

Richie’s cast was the first thing to be removed the following week. He flexed the fingers of his left hand, sighing in relief at being able to move them properly with no limitations. One of the few things that Bill had learned over the last month was that Richie was absolutely useless without the use of his left hand. It was his dominant hand, and Bill couldn’t imagine what it would be like if his right hand was suddenly out of commission for a month. He watched Richie flawlessly sign the paperwork the nurse had handed to him, a chronic difference to the struggle he’d seen when Richie had been forced to use his right hand on his discharge forms. He placed the pen down and slid them across the counter to the receptionist, giving his fingers another testing flex.

“Wow, I can actually do basic tasks again.” Richie said pushing the door to his apartment open and tossing his keys onto the kitchen counter. “Can’t walk for shit but at least I can fucking dress myself now.”

Bill watched as Richie dropped onto his sofa, raising his right leg high enough that he didn’t smack it into anything on the way down. “That’s definitely a plus. I know you miss your baggy shirts. The brace will be off in no time and you’ll be able to walk again.”

Richie grimaced. “After more extensive physio to get used to _not_ having the weight of a metal cage around my leg.”

Bill sighed, taking a seat next to Richie and carefully adjusting the brace covered leg to rest over both of his own. “I know it’s frustrating. But… you’ll be good as new in no time.”

Richie twisted on the sofa, resting his back against the arm to sit more comfortably. “It’s not that the injury is frustrating. I knew this was going to be a long recovery process I just -” He paused for a moment, and Bill saw the recognition sinking into his eyes. He was divulging in too much. He was opening up too much. “Nevermind it’s stupid.”

Bill hooked a finger into the brace and gave it a gentle tug. Not enough to actually hurt, but enough to get Richie’s attention. “Whatever it is, it’s not stupid.”

“I -” Richie swallowed, fingers digging into the sofa cushion. “I just feel useless. I hate it. I can barely cross my apartment without getting tired or without my leg hurting, and I spend most of my time sitting down because standing is _hard_ and I can barely take a damn shower because by the time I get there, I can only stand up for five minutes before I need to sit down and sometimes I can’t even get up to make it to my damn bed because _that’s_ hard.”

Bill was quiet, and Richie wondered if he even realised he was no longer holding the brace; his hand now resting on Richie’s knee. It didn’t hurt, not even when Bill’s thumb pressed firmly into the side and massaged against the area. “Why don’t you come stay with me in the week?”

“Bill -”

“I mean it. My roommate won’t mind. He actually scolds me for leaving you alone too much. You kinda met him at the hospital… hear me out okay? Stay with me during the week, where you don’t have to struggle trying to use a shower, then come home friday til sunday night.”

“This doesn’t help the feeling useless part.”

“You’re not useless, Richie. You just need a little help right now.”

Bill’s roommate, Eddie, was not what Richie had expected. He recognised him instantly from the hospital the day Beverly had signed his cast. Back in the hospital Eddie had looked extremely tense, almost uptight, but here in his apartment, Eddie was extremely relaxed, spread across the sofa with his head in the lap of another boy who was running his fingers through Eddie’s hair, lulling him into an almost completely comatose state.

“That’s Stan.” Bill said, motioning to Stan who glanced over to them at his name. “Eddie’s boyfriend. No Mike today?”

“He’s working.” Eddie grumbled, nuzzling his face into Stan’s lap. “We’re gonna go see him later and try not to overcrowd this place.”

Stan looked down at Eddie fondly, burying his fingers into the blonde strands and massaging at Eddie’s scalp. “I’ll have him back by ten, Bill, don’t worry.”

“No you won’t. You’ll end up at your place doing some kinky shit.” Bill said, leading Richie out of the living room to one of the bedrooms, closing the door behind them. “I’m waiting for you to run.”

Richie arched a brow. “Why? Because your roommate has two boyfriends? It’s whatever.”

“Okay - yeah - good. Um, this is my room but you can use it while you’re here. I’ll be in Eddie’s when he’s not here which is right next door. Otherwise you’ll find me in the living room if you need anything.”

“Bill I can’t -”

“You can and will. I’m not giving you a choice here.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

_“Right yeah, I’ll be there mom. Just give me like twenty minutes. I’m leaving the track now.” Richie adjusted the phone in his grasp, the other attempting to keep the dirt bike up. “Yeah okay, I’ll pick it up on the way. Does dad need anything?”_

**_Slam._ **

_Contrary to popular belief, the world did not slow down on the impact of the vehicle that had suddenly slammed into him. If anything, it sped up, an odd rush of adrenaline flowing through his spinning world. It was so fast that Richie could barely keep up. There was a thud, a clatter, crunching, the sound of glass cracking, more thudding, and then the sickening slam as he hit the concrete of the parking lot._

**_That_ ** _was when the world slowed down, when the brain tried to piece together everything that had happened. A mangled bike. A pair of partially broken glasses. A somehow still intact phone with panicked yelling coming down the line and…_

_There was someone there, someone crouching next to him with a phone pressed to their ear while giving a panicked report to someone. Little things stood out as darkness danced at the edge of his vision in little spots. Accident. Speeding. Hit and run. Off road vehicle…_

_“Hey. Come on. Wake up.” The man who had been on the phone was shaking him carefully, desperate to try and keep him conscious._

“Richie!”

Richie jerked awake. It took a moment for him to realise that Bill was standing over him, concern on his face and hands pressed to his shoulders. There was an intense pain throbbing through his leg, a sharp jolt that spread across his knee like an electric shock. He tried not to focus on it, instead focusing on the blurred form of Bill.

“It’s okay. It was just a dream.” Bill soothed, reaching for something on the nightstand before he was sliding Richie’s glasses onto his face. “See? You’re awake now.”

“Fuck.” Richie breathed, taking a moment to try and steady his breathing.

“What were you dreaming about? It sounded pretty bad.”

“The accident. I’ve been having them since they took me off the morphine induced comas.”

Bill slowly took a seat on the bed, keeping his hands firmly on Richie’s shoulders, the tips of his fingers playing with the dark curls. “Hey, you’re okay now. Do you… want me to stay?”

He could practically see the internal battle Richie was having with himself before he carefully rolled onto his side, trying to keep as much pressure off his right leg as he could before moving back to make more space in the bed next to him. Bill stood to pull the blanket back before settling into the space next to him, carefully reaching out to take the glasses from his face and return them to the nightstand. As he settled back onto his side, Bill wondered if this was too much, if he was pushing at Richie’s last boundary  _way too much_ and Richie just felt obliged to let him do whatever because this was  _his_ apartment and  _his_ bed.

But as he looked back at Richie, who had now closed his eyes again, he realised just how wrong that was. Richie suddenly seemed a lot more relaxed than he’d been over the last few days; like he  _needed_ someone to be there, like he needed  _Bill_ to be there. Since he’d met Richie, they’d become really close, closer than he’d been with anyone else. He even had small apartment dates with him which consisted of Bill bringing over take out and the two of them watching a movie.  But even then there was minimal touching considering it was a date. The most they ended up doing was Richie laying on the sofa, his brace covered leg resting in Bill’s lap with one of Bill’s arm draped over it. Bill had thought about kissing him on every single date, but Richie was constantly wary; constantly keeping distance between them. But he wasn’t now. Not here. He was letting Bill  _physically_ get close to him for something other than support to walk somewhere.

Richie shifted, his eyes fluttering open, and Bill found himself staring into the soft, almost pale blue of Richie’s eyes which were a strong contrast to his darker almost stormy blue ones. Neither of them spoke, just staring at each other in the dark. Richie seemed to fidget under his gaze a little, like he was debating something, and Bill couldn’t stop himself from blurting out the one thing that would either push Richie away or bring him closer.

“I want to kiss you.”

The sentence snapped Richie out of whatever his mental debate was, and he was staring at Bill completely focused again, blinking almost dumbly before he spoke. “I - _what_?”

Bill bit back a laugh, opting for smiling instead. “Can I?”

Richie didn’t trust himself to talk, he couldn’t. That’s how he always managed to find a way to fuck something up. Bill watched the way Richie relaxed, seconds before he was nodding his head slowly, somewhat unsurely. It was like he was expecting it to be a joke - that Bill would back out at the last second. Bill hated that. How many people had done something like that for him to be so cautious even after they’d known each other for a few months.

Bill reached out carefully like he was approaching an easily startled cat, his hand settling on Richie’s neck, thumb brushing against his jaw. Richie relaxed just a little more under the touch and Bill shifted forward, slowly, closing the space between them until his mouth met Richie’s. Bill felt Richie inhale sharply and then they were _really_ kissing. The initial contact had been so soft and careful, but now Richie’s hand was gripping the side of his shirt; holding onto Bill like he thought he’d vanish if he stopped touching him.

It gave Bill the push he needed, his hand sliding around to the back of Richie’s neck, sinking into the dark curls and holding him in place. Bill couldn’t recall a kiss that had escalated so fast into  _this_ \- the kind with roaming hands and tongue. Richie’s hand was tugging at his side as though trying to pull him closer, and Bill was hyper aware of just how close he was to slamming Richie down onto his back. It was like the years of  _not_ being touched by someone and then suddenly being touched had opened a floodgate and Richie couldn’t get enough of it.  And the gate only  _stopped_ opening when Richie had tried to move a leg over Bill’s, an attempt to pin him, the loud squeak of the brace around it piercing through the room followed by Richie pulling away from Bill with a hiss and a curse.

“Shit, are you okay?” Bill could feel the panic rising, replacing the euphoric feeling he’d had while kissing Richie.

“I’m okay.” Richie assured with another hiss, rolling onto his back and stretching out his right leg. “This thing has now just personally offended me.”

Bill laughed, the sound soft and quiet as he leaned over Richie to kiss him again. This time it was brief, and Bill was soon settling back into his place beside him. “Probably better this way. For now.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

The transition from being  _really close friends_ to dating was surprisingly easier than Richie had thought it would be. Bill had started to use his room again on the nights Richie was there, and Richie found that the recollections of his accident were less. Bill gave him a kind of soothing feeling whenever he was curled up behind him, one arm carefully tucked around Richie’s waist, his nose pressing into the back of his neck, and one leg tucked between both of Richie’s to keep his healing leg somewhat elevated.

They sat closer on the sofa, even when it was just the two of them, Richie in his usual awkward position and using Bill’s lap as a leg rest. Bill noticed there were days when Richie was bolder than usual, tucking his head into the area where Bill’s neck and shoulder met, Bill’s arm loosely wrapped around his waist, and if Eddie noticed the tense moments or the times Richie seemed to shy away from Bill, he was certainly good at not mentioning it.

“ _Ow. Fuck. Shit._ ”

Bill looked up from his laptop, brow furrowed as he tried to decipher were the cursing was coming from. It didn’t take long for him to realise it was Richie, perched at the end of the bed fresh from a shower and attempting to attach the bars back to the brace; awkwardly holding the bottom of his shorts up while trying to slide one of the bars into place. “Do you need some help there?”

“No.” Richie attempted to slide one of the bars into the ring that circled just below his thigh. “I got i -  _fuck_.” The bar missed its mark, Richie’s hand slamming against the ring with a clang that made even Bill cringe as the bar fell to the floor.

“Do you need some help there?” Bill repeated, setting his laptop to one side.

Richie exhaled heavily in defeat, dropping onto his back. “Maybe a little.”

With a chuckle, Bill stood and grabbed the bar from the floor, sitting in front of Richie’s legs and carefully sliding the bar into place, aligning the hole with the one in the side of the ring. He reached for a thick looking pin, carefully sliding it through the holes until it settled inside the rod. He screwed it into place quickly, reaching for the other bar and repeating the process.

“I think it’s stupid they made this so complicated.” Bill said, wiggling one of the bars to make sure it didn’t move.

There was a laugh from Richie while Bill screwed the higher bars into place. “It’s not complicated my eyes just don’t work right even  _with_ glasses.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you have me.” Bill said, his attention fixed on Richie’s knee. The last time he’d seen Richie in shorts, his knee had  _definitely_ looked worse than this. “On the plus side your knee is looking better.”

“Yayyy.” Richie threw his arms up sarcastically. “That means I get to have rods ripped out my leg in a few months.”

“But that’s good right? It means you’re all healed.”

“True. Can’t wait for the day I can walk all by myself without a heavy weight on my leg.” Richie said, dropping his arms back onto his chest. Bill pushed himself onto his knees, hooking a finger into the ring at the top to give it a gentle tug. Richie shot up into a sitting position, smacking Bill’s hand away. “What the fuck Billiam?”

“Just checking if it’s all in place.”

“You shouldn’t rag the fragile around like dolls, Billiam.”

Bill rolled his eyes, placing his hands against the tops of Richie’s legs, careful not to put too much weight onto Richie’s right leg as he pushed himself up a little more and shifted between them to peck at his lips. “You and I both know that didn’t hurt.”

Richie grinned. Bill had become so attuned to him over the last few months. “Yeah… and even if it did, your current position  _more_ than makes up for it.”

Bill quirked a brow at that. “Oh?”

“Shit, you kidding me? Attractive guy like you on your knees like this? Should be a crime so look so good.”

Bill’s hands shifted, roaming up to Richie’s waist, thumbs dipping into the waistband of his shorts. “Not as good as it  _can_ look.”

Richie could  _feel_ his brain short circuit. “I - you - come again?”

“Gotta come a first time before that.”

“Bill -”

“I mean, if that’s what you want. I can stop. I -”

“I did not expect you to talk like that.” Richie exhaled, his fingers gripping at the edge of the mattress. “You just short circuited my brain.”

“Well, I’m about to short circuit it again.” Bill said, slowly undoing the front of Richie’s shorts.

Two weeks later saw the removal of Richie’s most annoying accessory. Bill watched as the doctor took apart the brace. Removing the bars was the easiest part. Removing the rings was another thing. The doctor worked slowly, Richie wincing as she unscrewed the poles that kept the rings attached to his leg. She started with the one just under his thigh, carefully removing the poles and covering up the holes with gauze and tape after gluing them up. Next was the ankle, and Richie found himself reaching out for Bill, gripping his hand tightly.

“I’m sure you had this explained to you before, but the ones in your knee have to stay in a little longer. The good news is you no longer need the cage. The bad news is, we’re fitting you with another brace. It’s a simple one. It comes with a shoe attachment and there’s another to use when you’re sleeping. I’m going to show you how to put this on and attach it to the poles, but this one will fit easier under baggy clothing. No tight jeans. I recommend sweats and shorts, and you’ll have this brace for about four months.”

The brace was simple enough, a shoe attached to two metal rods that would sit against his leg with about an inch between them and his leg, there was a screw about halfway up that attached to the rod in his knee, and just above that was a semi-circular support that would nest against the back of his thigh. He was still advised to use the crutch for any long walks, but walks around his apartment without it were fine. Physio was still required, mostly to get used to not having the support, but the sessions were less as he could do most of it at home. They left the hospital, Richie with a bounce in his step, the second brace with the slipper attachment tucked into the bend of his arm and Bill trying to calm him down because there was absolutely no way in hell that the bouncing was any good for Richie’s still recovering knee.

There were some days that Richie was left in the apartment without Bill. These were the days he usually spent with Eddie. Whenever he stayed over, he’d gotten to know Eddie more, just like he had with Beverly who still insisted on visiting him and seeing how he was recovering. When Eddie had emerged from his room on one of those days, stumbling into the living room in clothes that screamed ‘vegetation day’, Richie had moved his leg for Eddie to sit down, bending his knee up awkwardly to do so. Eddie had dropped onto the sofa, and after a quick mental debate with himself, patted his lap for Richie to stretch his leg out again. Richie hadn’t moved. He was more than aware of Eddie’s touch evasion. Unless you were a friend or a boyfriend, touching Eddie earned one hell of a hip throw that could take out someone twice his size. Richie didn’t move, and Eddie rolled his eyes, gently grabbing Richie’s leg and placing the foot into his lap.

“How’s the recovery going?” Eddie asked, his attention fixed on the tv which was playing some kind of horror movie which Eddie was certain he’d missed a good thirty minutes of.

Richie’s own attention returned to the screen, brow knitting. “Painfully. It’s good to have a comfortable brace on now though. Means I’m getting better.”

Eddie nodded, glancing at Richie’s leg where he could see the faint outline of the brace under the sweats he was wearing. He’d definitely come a long way from the person he’d seen who was pretty much bed bound in a hospital and couldn’t walk without the aid of another person. “Isn’t it annoying to have it covered all the time like that?”

“I -” Richie looked down at his leg where he could just make out the support wrapped around his thigh to help keep the brace fitted to his leg. “It’s better this way. I don’t have to look at it. I hate it. I hate looking at it.”

Eddie frowned, but didn’t push it. Richie wasn’t as open as the rest of them were. Eddie had figured that one out during the moments that he’d seen Richie shy away from Bill when they were in a big group. Richie didn’t know  _how_ to be open. Not with physical touches, or even with what was going on in his mind. But he was getting better with it. Bill was good for Richie, slowly breaking him out of the shell he’d driven himself into and Richie was good for Bill because Eddie had never seen him  _this_ happy before.

“Word of advice Billiam,” Richie said, dropping onto his bed carefully with a towel draped around his head and shoulders, “never fuck up your leg to the point of almost no repair.”

“I told you to have a bath at mine before we came back.” Bill said, leaning over the bed towards Richie and rubbing the towel against the top of his head. “But you insisted on being stubborn.”

Richie relaxed under the touch, stretching out on the bed. “I missed my apartment and my shower, sue me. Your place is too big. I miss my cozy lifestyle.”

Bill exhaled softly, face softening. “I know. I’m sorry. I just hate leaving you alone and struggling.”

“It’s spring break now right?” Richie asked, slowly sitting up and allowing Bill to continue drying his hair. Bill hummed a yes, slowly massaging the towel against Richie’s head. “How about we stay here? I mean like - if you want to.”

“You really have to ask if I want to spend a week with  _just_ you?”

“Well -”

“Idiot.” Bill said, moving the towel away from Richie’s head, balling it up and tossing it into the hamper in the corner of the bedroom. “Done.”

“Ah, my hero. What would I do without you?”

“Completely soak your pillow like a dumbass proba - Richie are you wearing my clothes?”

“How did you  _just_ notice that? All my sweats are ruined because of my old brace.” Richie shifted, putting as little weight on his leg as possible as he moved to his desired side of the bed. “I figured you wouldn’t mind… or rather, Eddie didn’t when he complained about the state of my sweats and then threw these at me.”

“It’s not like I creepily stare at you constantly.” Bill defended, raking his eyes over Richie who was almost drowning in one of Bill’s old faded baggy shirts and sweatpants. “They uh - you look good.”

“I’ll be sure to tell Eddie you approve of my new sleeping attire.” Richie said, a teasing grin on his face. Bill rolled his eyes, a fond smile on his face. He never understood how so many people whether friends or someone he’d dated had  _never_ appreciated this side of Richie or been driven away by it. “Hey Bill?”

Bill had paid attention to the sudden drop of the nickname Richie always called him. Over the course of knowing Richie, it was always serious when he dropped the name and called him just ‘Bill’. Bill shifted to sit more comfortably, his attention fixing solely on Richie. “What’s on your mind?”

“I -” Richie stopped suddenly and Bill could already see the mental debate going on in his head. “Uh - no. It’s nothing.”

Bill’s expression turned from serious to concerned. “Richie -”

“It’s stupid.”

“Nothing about you is stupid.” Bill assured, reaching out and stroking a hand against his cheek. “What’s on your mind, Richie?”

“I -” Richie tried again, but his mouth didn’t seem to work around whatever he was trying to get out. Bill was patient, soothing his thumb just under Richie’s glasses. Richie inhaled sharply, trying to sort the words flitting around in his head. “IwannahavesexandI’vebeenthinkingaboutitforawhileandIdidn’tknowhowtoaskbecauseIdidn’twanttopressureyouoranythingandit’sstupidand-”

“ _Richie_. Calm down.” Bill soothed, shifting a little closer to him across the bed while his fingers toyed with the ends of Richie’s curls. “I know I asked what’s on your mind but  _damn_. Okay. What about your leg?”

“I - it should be fine if we’re careful.”

“And you’re absolutely  _sure_ about this? Take a moment - right now - think it through. I want you to be  _one hundred percent sure_.”

Richie was quiet, and once again Bill could see the mental debate that was taking over before Richie swallowed, his head moving in a shaky nod. “Y-yeah… yeah I’m sure.”

That was the only confirmation Bill needed before he was kissing Richie, fingers threading into the back of his hair. Richie’s hands moved, unsurely at first, finding their purchase on Bill’s shoulders. They sank into the soft material of his shirt, pulling him closer until there was barely any space between them. Bill made no other movements, taking the moment to simply map out Richie’s mouth with his tongue, fingers gripping just a little too tightly at his hair when he drew a soft quiet moan from Richie.

Bill slowly detached his mouth from Richie’s, leaving Richie to take in the way his pupils had expanded, almost concealing the dark blue of his eyes completely. “Fuck...” Bill breathed, dipping his head down to Richie’s neck and pressing a firm kiss to the juncture where it met with his shoulder. “Do that again.”

Richie complied, especially since Bill pressed his teeth against the flesh, hands shakily gripping at the shoulders of Bill’s shirt. Bill’s free hand skimmed up Richie’s waist, fingers dipping into the hem of his shirt and pressing against the skin there. The area of skin was smooth, and as his fingers traced along the line, he felt Richie recoil with a sharp breath before relaxing again. “Scar?” He could feel Richie nod, pressing his fingers to the area. “It’s okay.” Bill trailed his thumb against the scar, mapping it out slowly to the point where it met with another one. “You’re okay.”

Richie inhaled shakily, one of his hands shifting into Bill’s hair, voice vibrating against Bill’s mouth as he spoke. “Yeah - you’re right. I’m okay.”

Bill hummed, pleased with the response as he started to pepper kisses along Richie’s neck, trailing them up until he reached his ear; pressing his mouth against the shell. “Gonna be more than okay soon. I’ll make sure of it.”

Richie couldn’t suppress the shudder that rolled down his spine, intensified by the way Bill’s hand moved upwards, skimming across his stomach and settling just under his ribcage where there was a smaller scar, more like a puncture wound than anything. Bill’s mouth returned to Richie’s, a series of slow languid kisses that had noses brushing as Richie moved forward, coaxed into movement the longer they kissed; hand trailing down the front of Bill’s shirt until it rested just above the waistband of his shorts where his fingers hooked into the band, the heel of his palm pressing lightly into the already forming bulge in the crotch.

He pressed his palm against the area, carefully and unsurely in a light rub that drew an encouraging groan from Bill who shifted his hips, seeking the friction that Richie was trying to offer. “You can touch me Richie.” Bill encouraged, voice low as he trailed kisses down from Richie’s mouth to his jaw, untangling his fingers from Richie’s hair to place his hand against Richie’s own, pressing down and curing the other hand again him. “I  _want_ you to touch me.” 

Bill felt Richie swallow, drawing in a breath before his fingers were moving slowly, unhooking from the waistband of his shorts and into the button, slowly prying it free. Bill continued to press encouraging kisses along Richie’s jaw, moving lower back to his neck and nipping at the flesh there. He stilled when Richie finally wrapped a hand around him, a moan vibrating in the crook of Richie’s neck. Spurred on by the noise, Richie’s hand tightened slightly, dragging slowly against Bill, drawing a second moan from Bill and a harsher nip to his neck. “Feels good, Richie -  _really good._ ”

Richie’s thumb brushed against the tip, pressing down lightly, Bill’s teeth sinking into his neck hard enough that Richie was  _positive_ they’d leave a mark. Richie’s hand moved faster, drawing harsh ragged pants from Bill, muttered curses vibrating against his neck; mixed with praises of how good Richie’s hand felt wrapped around him. Bill’s hand suddenly wrapped around Richie’s wrist, halting the movements as he pulled back from his neck with a heavy pant.

“Don’t wanna - not without you...” Bill laced his fingers through Richie’s, the hand in Richie’s shirt pushing up, exposing his stomach. “Can I?”

It took Richie a moment to realise what he was asking, fingers pressing against the back of Bill’s hand. “Yeah… you can.”

Bill released Richie’s hand, sliding his now free hand into Richie’s shirt with the other, pecking at his mouth encouragingly and sliding the shirt higher. Richie raised his arms, allowing Bill to remove his shirt and toss it to one side, taking a moment to drink in Richie. What little scars he had weren’t all that noticeable, not unless you were  _looking_ for them, except for one prominent jagged marking on his right shoulder which Bill pressed a kiss to.

Pressing his hands to Richie’s waist, Bill was careful, coaxing him backwards while trailing his kisses along Richie’s shoulder and back up to his mouth, shifting one leg slowly between both of Richie’s and nudging the left one to the side enough that he could settle between them with his arms resting either side of him. Bill connected their lips again, his tongue delving slowly into Richie’s mouth as he shifted his hips, slowly and torturously grinding himself against Richie.

The moan it drew from Richie vibrated deep in his throat before being swallowed by Bill, the sound eliciting an involuntary harder buck of his hips that broke them apart as Richie’s back arched, pushing his head into the pillow; hands flying up to grip at Bill’s shoulders. Richie’s fingers worked quickly, dipping down to the front of Bill’s shirt and undoing the buttons until he could slip his hands into the shoulders and push the shirt from his body.

Bill sat upright long enough to fully remove the shirt before he was back over Richie, grinding himself against him again while dipping his head down to press his mouth against Richie’s collarbone, scraping his teeth against the area. The action had Richie’s hips bucking up towards him, meeting him in a grind that drew a groan from both of them at the friction. Bill’s mouth moved lower, leaving a burning trail of kisses down from his collarbone, across his chest and down the centre, once in a while scraping his teeth across the flesh until he reached Richie’s stomach, his hands sliding to the waistband of his sweatpants.

Dipping his fingers into the band, he glanced up at Richie whose chest was heaving, rubbing his thumb soothingly against his thigh. “Need that verbal confirmation again, Richie.”

Richie heaved in some air, attempting to uncloud his brain as Bill’s words sank in. “God damn it Bill - just - yes - always  _yes_.”

Bill let out a soft chuckle at Richie’s eagerness, dipping his fingers further into the waistband before slowly edging the sweatpants down his hips, easing them over the support of the leg brace carefully as he shifted backwards. His movements were slow and careful as he eased the right leg of the sweats from Richie, one hand carefully pressed to the brace to stop it from moving or sliding off. Tossing them to the floor with the already discarded clothing, Bill’s hand pressed gently to Richie’s right ankle, sliding slowly up the length of his leg as he straightened it back out, fingers carefully dipped into the back of his knee.

He didn’t miss the wary look that Richie was giving him, not through lack of trust but his dislike for the metal encaging most of his leg. Bill gave him a reassuring smile, dipping to press a kiss against the knee as his fingers soothed at the back of it. “This doesn’t change anything.” Bill said, voice almost muffled against his flesh. “I still want you. All of you.” His mouth trailed up Richie’s leg, careful to avoid knocking the brace and hurting him.

He could feel Richie relaxing again, his body sinking against the mattress as Bill reached the hem of his boxers. “Stuff?”

Richie reached out for the drawers next to his bed, unable to quite reach them. “Fuck, middle drawer.”

Bill drew himself away from Richie to get the things he needed from the drawer, dropping them onto the bed next to Richie and sliding his shorts off before he was back in his place between his legs, stroking a soothing hand against Richie’s hip. “Still okay?”

“If you ask me that one more time I’m going to take this brace off and hit you with it.”

“Consent is  _key_ , Richie.” Bill dipped his hands into the band of Richie’s boxers, easing them down the same way he had with the sweatpants until they joined the rest of the clothes on the floor. “Hand me one of the pillows.” Richie reached behind him, grabbing a pillow and handing it to Bill who slipped it under his leg in the bend of his knee. “Just in case.”

Bill reached for the bottle he’d retrieved from Richie’s nightstand, popping the cap open and pouring some onto his fingers, carefully spreading it across them. He slid the first finger in slowly, free hand pushing Richie’s left leg further to the side to give him better access. Richie’s fingers gripped at the bedsheets, knuckles almost white with the grip he had on them. Bill slid his hand from Richie’s leg up to his own, curling his hand under Richie’s and letting him grip at him as he pushed the finger further in to his knuckle.

“You’re okay. You’re doing so good.” Bill soothed, slowly pumping the finger in and out of him. “Look at you, already getting used to it. I’m gonna add another. Breathe in.” Richie inhaled and Bill slid the second finger slowly into him. “Out.” Richie exhaled and Bill started to move his fingers in a scissoring motion, drawing a whimper from Richie that had him freezing for a moment. “That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

Richie whined, tilting his head back. “Bill -”

“No, you’re gonna hear how much I love the sounds you make. One more. In.” Richie took in a breath as Bill added the third finger, breathing out when it was seated inside of him. “Didn’t even have to tell you that time. You’re doing so good, look at you.” Bill praised, spreading his fingers out inside Richie, scissoring them as he pumped them inside of him. Richie’s hips bucked towards him, a series of moans falling from his mouth, mixing with the odd whimper.

The fingers just weren’t  _enough_. He needed something else, something bigger. He needed - “  _Bill..._ ”

“I know.” Bill slowly retracted his fingers from Richie, reaching for the foil packet. “I got you.”

Bill was gone from between his legs again to remove his boxers, and Richie had a hard time of keeping track of where he was as the sound of foil ripping reached him. Bill was soon settling between his legs again, reaching for the bottle of lubricant again and pouring some more into his hand. He stroked his hand up and down his dick a few times, spreading the lubricant evenly over the condom before he was leaning over Richie again with his hands planted either side of his head. “In.” Bill reminded, reaching down with one hand, wrapping it around himself and lining himself up with Richie. Richie breathed in and Bill pushed himself in slowly; tip pressing through the ring of muscle carefully.  

“ _Fuck_.” Richie exhaled, one hand gripping at Bill’s bicep while the other dug into the sheet under him.

Bill’s other hand came back to the side of Richie’s head, teeth sinking into his lip as he tried to move slowly, sinking into Richie as his fingers gripped at the pillow. He tilted his head to one side, pressing a series of firm kisses to Richie’s jaw once he was fully inside, giving Richie the time he’d need to adjust. “Doing so good - feel so good.”

It was the first time Bill could recall Richie being unable to speak, his breath coming out shakily as his arms wrapped around him, nails digging against Bill’s back, and when Bill finally started to move in slow sharp thrusts, it was like the floodgate had opened again and he just  _wasn’t_ touching him enough. His fingers clutched at Bill, nails scraping down his back, his left leg rising to hook around his waist and push him deeper inside of him.  His body was trembling under Bill’s, a mixture of pleasure and emotion washing over him. In all the times he’d had sex it had never been like  _this_. It had never been with anyone who  _genuinely_ cared about him. Someone who was so  _careful_. Someone who  _stayed_. His arms tightened around Bill, nails leaving a series of red lines in their wake as they scraped across his back, the moans of Bill’s name spilling from his mouth like a mantra.

Bill’s thrusts were careful and calculated, knowing exactly where to hit to draw the hitched moans of his name from Richie as he kissed along his neck and muttered soft praises into the flesh mixed with admissions of how much he’d wanted this and how long he’d have been willing to wait. And the floodgate completely burst and Richie couldn’t hold back his tears, face buried into Bill’s shoulder. Bill’s movements came to a halt, his head lifting from Richie’s neck as he felt his body shaking. “Hey, are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Richie shook his head, tightening his grip on Bill even more and Bill understood. Bill used his shoulder to carefully nudge Richie’s head back onto the pillow, using a hand to wipe at the tears streaked against his cheek. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m  _always_ going to be here.” Richie choked back a sob and Bill kissed him, slow and gentle, his movements starting up again. “I love you. I have done for a while. Probably since the day I met you.”

Bill reached between them, slowly wrapping a hand around Richie’s dick, moving his hand in slow strokes. There was no rush. He wanted to drag Richie over the edge, slowly push him into the mind numbing state of bliss. Because Richie  _deserved_ it. He deserved to be loved, and Bill would make sure he knew how loved he was every day; starting with here in this moment. Richie’s leg fell from Bill’s waist, tangling with his own, and Bill could feel the way his foot curled next to his leg, his leg trembling enough to shake Bill’s with it. “Bill - can’t - ah -”

“Go on. I’ve got you.”

Richie’s nails sunk into Bill’s back as the pleasure washed over him, a final thrust from Bill pushing him over the edge with a choked moan of his name into the intense pleasure filled void. Bill stroked him through it, hand firm, slow, and careful before he was following close behind, his face pressing into Richie’s sweat covered neck.

Richie’s body still shook with the sobs that had taken over, unable to close the floodgate now it was open, and Bill pressed soothing kisses to his neck; assurances that he was fine. That  _everything_ was okay. He drew his hand out from between them, allowing himself to lower against Richie, closing his arms around him and stroking a hand through his hair until the sobs died down, soothed away by Bill’s constant kisses.

 

**One Year later:**

Beverly jumped up and down on the spot, shouting her screams and cheers as a red bike flew over one of the track dunes, wheels slamming against the ground as they landed and sped off. The rider looked back over their shoulder to see the black bike gaining on them, rider leaning forward and revving the handle of the bike to speed up.

“It’s gonna be a close one.” Mike said, glancing to Bill and holding a hand out. “Ten on Eddie.”

“No way.” Bill looked out at the track where the bikes were neck and neck, flying over another dune before he took Mike’s hand. “Richie’s gonna win. He’s been doing this way longer.”

“He also said Eddie was a natural once he could get him on a bike.” Mike pointed out. “Experience doesn’t always make you the best.”

The red bike pushed forward as the rider twisted the handle for a burst of speed, the black one remaining hot on his tail. Mike was right. It  _was_ gonna be a close one. They were so close to the finish line, the rider on the red bike giving the handle another twist until the bike skidded over the the finish line, the rider jerking as the bike came to a stop.

Mike grinned, holding out his hand to Bill again as the black bike came to a stop next to the red one. “I told you.”

Eddie pulled off his helmet and hung it on the handlebar of his bike, shooting Richie a grin as he pulled off his own helmet. “I actually thought you were gonna beat me. How’d it feel to be back out there again?”

Richie hung his own helmet onto his handlebar, looking out at the track behind them. “Didn’t miss it as much as I thought I would. Guess I found something better than seeking some insane adrenaline rush just to feel something.”

Eddie shook his head, a fond smile coming to his face. “You’re so in love it’s sickening, do you know that?”

Richie returned the smile, climbing from his bike and stretching out his right leg awkwardly. “Yeah, I know.”

Eddie’s smile turned into a grin as he climbed from his own bike and stretched his arms above his head, loosening the joints. “I’m glad. You’re good for each other.”

Richie opened his mouth to respond, cut off when a pair of arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him backwards, Bill pressing a gentle kiss just under his ear. “Hi to you too, Billiam.”

Bill hummed, resting his chin against Richie’s shoulder. “Hey. You okay? Leg okay?”

Richie tilted his head back, resting against Bill’s shoulder and moving his weight to his left leg. It had been five months since he’d been given the okay to have the brace completely off, but there was still the lingering pain once in a while, or a stiffness he couldn’t quite shake. “It’s a little sore. I don’t think dirt bike riding agrees with it.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t heal right.”

“Don’t be.” Richie turned to face Bill, curling his arms around his waist. “It could have been worse than not healing right. I could have never walked again. You heard them at every appointment. They said the chances of my leg functioning properly again were  _very low_ , and here I am. No brace. No crutch. I can  _walk_ and that’s enough after being told I probably wouldn’t be able to again without some kind of aid.”

Bill smiled, threading his fingers into the side of Richie’s hair as he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to his nose. “Among  _other_ things.”

Richie felt the heat rising to his face, slapping Bill’s hands away from him. “ _Don’t talk about that in public._ ”

“But Richie...” Bill leaned further forward, lowering his voice to a whisper in Richie’s ear. “You look  _so_ good face down.”

“ _Bill._ ”

Bill let out a laugh, taking a step back from Richie. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop. You riding back on the bike or with me?”

Riche hummed, glancing to the bike. “Are you kidding, Billiam? I can’t leave it here.”

“I can take it back.” Eddie said, coming to a stop next to them. “There’s enough room in Mike’s truck to fit both of them on there. It saves Bill driving to the garage too since you’re probably heading back to yours anyway.”

“I don’t think I ever expressed my love for you before, Eds.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, go on. Get out of here. Don’t forget about tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow - right - yeah - you got it!”

Bill laced his fingers with Richie’s, pulling him across the track and back to the parking lot. He didn’t miss the way that Richie’s hand squeezed at his own when they crossed the lot to Bill’s car, or the way that Richie moved into him, pressing into Bill’s side. Bill rubbed his thumb against the back of Richie’s hand, tilting his head to press a light kiss against his temple.

And the moment the door to Richie’s apartment closed behind them the moment in the parking lot dissolved away as they were on each other, a mass of shedding clothes, clashing teeth and roaming hands as they stumbled across the apartment towards the bedroom.

“Holy shit that was  _not_ a good idea.” Richie groaned an hour later as Bill massaged his knee, thumbs pressed firm but gentle into the sides. “You’re a bad influence on me.”

“It was  _your_ idea.” Bill defended, rubbing his thumb over the front of Richie’s knee. “You’re the one who said  _come on Bill I’m not gonna fucking break._ ”

“Well… I wasn’t wrong. I didn’t break.”

“Are you sure you’re okay though?”

“Wellll,” Richie paused, lifting his leg from Bill’s lap and bending it a few times. “My leg still works and you just fucked me into oblivion so… I’d say I’m pretty fucking great right about now.”

“Hey, watch where you’re aiming that leg.” Bill ducked under his leg, crawling up the bed to settle in his usual place next to him. “We’ll have to remember to be a little more careful next time.”

“I dunno. I think you  _shoving me the fuck down_ was pretty hot.” Richie rolled onto his side, dropping his head onto Bill’s chest. “Hey Bill?”

“God I hate it when you call me that. It always means there’s something serious. I prefer you in the happy carefree state.”

Richie’s body shook against Bill’s as he laughed. “Hey come on, I literally just called you Bill when you were drilling the fuck into me.”

“Fair point. You wanted something?”

“Oh yeah.” Richie curled an arm around Bill’s waist with a yawn. “We’re like…  _super awesomely fantastically good,_ right?”

Bill let out a laugh. “Yeah. We are.”

“Right, and… you spend a lot of time here. Like I have over half your damn wardrobe in my closet to the point I keep accidentally wearing your clothes.”

Bill tensed. Where was he going with this? “Is that a problem?”

“Yeah.” Richie tilted his head upwards, placing a kiss to Bill’s chin. “Because the rest of its not here.”

“You want me to try and shove my whole wardrobe in there?”

“ _Bill_.” Richie groaned, dropping his head back to Bill’s chest. “Over half your stuff is here, the rest should be can you at least like…  _try_ and get what I’m saying?”

Bill’s arms wrapped around him, fingers tracing a pathway against his back, following each bump of his spine. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

Richie hummed a yes that was muffled by Bill’s chest. “You practically live here anyway. I‘m sure Eddie would  _love_ to have that apartment to himself and his boys.”

Bill’s hand flattened against the space between Richie’s shoulder blades. “Yeah - okay - living together.” He glanced to the nightstand before rolling onto his side, drawing a disgruntled noise from Richie at the sudden movement. “Richieeee.”

“Yes Billiam?”

Bill grinned, running his nose against Richie’s jaw, pressing kisses to the flesh. “Happy birthday.” Richie suddenly found himself on his back, Bill’s hands pressing down into his shoulders as he straddled him to the mattress. “I’m gonna give you one of your presents now.”


End file.
